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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003135">The Shrine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/pseuds/explodingnebulae'>explodingnebulae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Divergent, Confessions, F/M, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:07:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/pseuds/explodingnebulae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirani Lavellan and Solas approach the Shrine of Fen'Harel in the Exalted Plains.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Shrine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Exalted Plains were beautiful save the name and history of violence and bloodshed. Dirthavaren is what the Dalish called them, a much warmer title that resonated within the confines of Mirani Lavellan’s heart. Deep within was the lair of wyverns and a high dragon that laid slain, bones carried away for armor, and what remained was picked clean by ravenous wildlife. </p><p>Mirani found a peculiar piece within Ghilan’nain’s Grove that lie just beyond the great beast’s nest and wondered how she had not seen it sooner. A sizeable and detailed shrine dedicated to a god of treachery and madness stood in carved stone. Most Dalish elves were content to carry only a small fetish and only for superstitious purposes. </p><p>“I’ve never seen something so monumental dedicated to Fen’Harel,” she mused as she placed her palm upon the stone. It was warm from the sunlight and smooth beneath her touch with the exception of the intricate pattern carved into the body. “Surely it’s tucked away for some reason. Maybe due to the possible implications?”</p><p>Wolves were not uncommon in her people’s history, as tales of the creatures never leaving the side of the one with which they were bonded. Faithful to the last, were the wolves to the elves. But those statues were large and tame, content to gaze and guard. The wolves locked in stone before her howled soundlessly upward, forever crying out to the heavens. </p><p>“And what implications do you infer?” It was Solas who spoke, but her eyes did not break from the design upon the wolves’ bodies. Their shared interest in the Fade and all things related to the true elves of Arlathan had bonded them from the very beginning of the Inquisition. She took comfort in his voice being the one to urge her further. Though, she swore she heard a note of apprehension lining his tone.</p><p>“I would say worship, but it’s hard to think of the Dread Wolf being the subject of such things if the tales ring true, though I’ve never placed much faith in the stories of my people. Maybe it’s a warning to those who venture so deeply into the Grove or maybe it’s a memorial. The Veil feels thinner and there’s room here for something. An eluvian?” </p><p>The spellbound mirrors were a well-kept secret of the old elves that served as doorways between areas. Traces of them laid derelict in the Fade and she saw them only in dreams during her early travels in the Free Marches. The one that would fit in the space between the wolves would have had to have been massive. She took a step back and looked quizzically at the architecture. The stairs that led to the shrine would only serve as more evidence to her initial conjecture.</p><p>“An eluvian?” Solas repeated. “You have knowledge of such things?”</p><p>“A little,” Mirani began with a smile, still astonished by the shrine. “What remains of the true Elvhen is little and the Dalish only seek to covet it, hide it away from the world. With more eyes and minds turned toward the history, we could learn more than ever. Leliana believes that Briala knows of at least two working eluvians and uses them to move her spies undetected from place to place.” </p><p>A hum of approval sounded from beside her as Solas stepped closer, his gaze now turned to the shrine as well. “It is refreshing to hear a Dalish voice so openly willing to admit such a thing. They claim to be true elves, but hoard and squander what they find. Knowledge should be shared to all ears, not guarded with abject hostility.”</p><p>“Though I come from a Dalish clan, Solas, you know I don’t consider myself Dalish. My clan tolerated my magic because the first to the Keeper was old enough to train me and when I was old enough, I was content enough to keep myself far from camp. I spent most of my time in search of ruins that might hold more knowledge,” she explained, ensuring that she kept the bitter taste in her mouth from soiling her words. “Occasionally, they would listen to what I learned but if anything challenged the old stories of the Creators it was immediately shut down.”</p><p>Despite her low opinion on her clan, Mirani was thankful that she had been permitted to stay among them. Most Dalish kept no more than two mages in their clan to prevent possible abominations from spawning and those two mages were always at the head of the clan. Elves were intrinsically tied to the Fade, the magic in their blood as old as time. To be punished for having that gift hardly made sense to her.</p><p>“My apologies, vhenan. My own interactions with the Dalish have been largely negative to say the least. Perhaps if I had met you earlier, I could have shared my knowledge with you.” </p><p>She turned her attention to Solas and saw the shadow of forlorn familiarity as he gazed upon Fen’Harel’s shrine. Such pain dwelt behind his eyes and Mirani could only think to amount it to the stories he possessed of the ancient elves. The glittering city of Arlathan, towering in the sky like a brilliant jewel. Despite being tied closely to the Fade, she could only imagine what he had seen in his journeys. </p><p>“You’re here now,” she returned softly. “That’s what matters.”</p><p>He blinked slowly, the amaranthine sorrow returning to its secret place within him, and turned his head in her direction. “As are you and so long as you’re willing to listen, I will share all that I know.”</p><p>“Have you ever found any traces of Fen’Harel in your travels into the Fade?” </p><p>Solas turned to her, the pelt upon his armor shifting slightly as his staff brushed it. There was a muted hesitation in him that would have been imperceptible to most members of the inner circle, but Mirani caught it in a fleeting glimpse.</p><p>“Some say his pride was too great, that he locked away the Gods to hold power of them and be the only immortal to roam free,” he started. “As you know from the tales of the Dalish, he was perceived as a monster more than a man–an enemy bearing the face of a friend, at the ready with a knife behind his back. The truth, I fear, is much more complicated. It would be easier had he simply been the malefactor all claimed him to be. He stood defiant against the pantheon, saw their misdeeds against the Elvhenan, and presumably sought a way to free them from their masters.”</p><p>Mirani returned her gaze to the wolf statues as she listened to him speak and tried to imagine the hellish fiend as something more complex, something softer, something solitary and wise and helpful. Solas continued. </p><p>“The echoes of long forgotten memories cry out his name in terror as Arlathan crumbled and the world was torn asunder. Magic left the earth as he locked away both the Forgotten Ones and the so-called Creators, the Veil holding back all that the elves were.”</p><p>“But why erect the Veil?” The question left her lips before she had time to consider the possibility of him not knowing. </p><p>“What I have found in the Fade suggests that he was attempting to keep the pantheon from destroying the world in their ceaseless lust for power and control. The people suffered a great deal from the actions of their leaders, as they often do when power is placed in the wrong hands. And in his desperate foolishness creating the Veil, the Dread Wolf caused the very world he fought against.”</p><p>They stood silent for a time. Mirani swallowed the sorrow that welled in her throat as she drowned in the imagery of the tale. She looked to the howling head of the wolf and wondered how terrible of a burden that must be. It was her every fear, to fail those who needed her protection, to fail the elves, to fail the mages, to fail herself. </p><p>She reflected a moment on his words and closed her eyes. The face she needed to place upon the Dread Wolf was not one in need of creation, but one she knew so intimately that it made her stomach drop. So visceral were his details that she could no longer keep herself blinded by self-imposed ignorance. </p><p>“It must be a heavy burden to bear,” she said after another few minutes of silence. </p><p>“It is indeed, vhenan.”</p>
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